


Better Than Blue

by QuillMind



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Art, Bukkake, Drawing, F/M, Nude Modeling, Other, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:58:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMind/pseuds/QuillMind
Summary: As an artist, Yusuke has a good eye for colours.  His mind is filled with what hue should go where on the canvas, and what tones would best convey what he wants to express.  Since you have come into his life, though, he has become fixated on a particular colour--with you as the surface.





	Better Than Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I should put some of that art knowledge to use somewhere, right? Though I do wish they'd done a bit more with Yusuke's character than just "artsy weirdo," I still liked him because of Sugita and all.

Blue was Yusuke’s favourite colour.  

Its history was one of the driving reasons for his preference.  Before synthetic pigments were available, colours such as black, brown and red were easily obtained by charcoal, iron oxide, insects, and red ochre.  For yellow, arsenic and urine were common sources.  Green had several plant sources, though they were not long-lasting.  But blue stood out as a luxury within the visual spectrum.  Its rarity designating it as the colour of royalty.  Those that did not have access to indigo plants would grind up lapis lazuli or azurite instead.  Yusuke liked the idea of that; literally using treasure to create art.  

To him, perfecting his skills in self-expression was of the utmost importance.  Spending any amount of money on the best quality art supplies was a no-brainer.  Unfortunately, this single-mindedness resulted in him not having enough money to buy food or train fare back home on more than one occasion, which was where you usually came in to bail him out in some form or another.  As much as you rolled your eyes at Yusuke’s profligate ways, you couldn’t help but admire him for having such passion for something that he could forget about everything else.  

Before you, Yusuke had never thought he would find something that he could be as obsessed about as art.  Most people paid true art no mind, satisfied enough with uninspired, mass-produced kitsch or cheap, bastardized trinkets sold in gift shops for tourists.  It was hard for him not to grimace when all a layman might offer in their observation was that something was ‘pretty.’  

While you were not a creative person yourself, you did have an appreciation for art.  The gradual shifting of styles and movements throughout the ages was fascinating to you, as was their correlation to technological advancement and expanding worldviews.  And though you recognized contemporary conceptual art as an inevitability rising from artists’ struggling to create things that had not been done yet, you still preferred the more classical, representational stuff, critics be damned.  

When you’d told Yusuke all of this during your first meeting, he’d thought he had come face to face with his own muse, his personal Galatea.  For every part of you seemed tailor-made for him, from your distaste of flighty kids on social media that described themselves as photographers, to your thoughtful opinions on a piece whether it was by him or someone else, to your willingness to indulge his sometimes quirky whims.  He liked your laugh, your habit of nibbling your finger when you were deep in thought, how you sometimes danced when you thought he wasn’t watching.  

Except he rarely wasn’t watching you, and how could he, really?  The shape of your face, the angle of your eyes, the colour of your hair, the proportions of your body--they were all perfect to him.   

Recently he had gotten ahold of some beautiful blue silk that he knew would be the perfect surface for you to lay on as you modeled for him.  Without looking at the price (as usual), he’d bought the whole bolt of fabric then and there, rushing home with it in his arms as preciously as if it were a baby.  

The day when he could finally see you again did not come soon enough, in Yusuke’s opinion.  Barely able to contain his excitement, he pulled the fabric out of the shopping bag and draped it over the bed while you undressed.  Sure enough, the colour was gorgeous against your skin, and he commended himself for his good taste.  

For the long pose, Yusuke had you sit against the wall, leaning back slightly with both knees bent and tipped slightly to the side.  The blue silk was bunched around your hips and feet, making you look like you were seated on the ocean.  Not unlike how Venus emerged from the sea.  

And just like the ancient goddess of love, you instilled in him a deep and powerful desire, one that he’d never felt before or never thought he would feel for anything besides art.  He constantly felt the need to touch you, like his hands needed to be reminded of your skin and curves on a daily basis.  That something was taking his attention away from drawing and painting might have troubled Yusuke were it not for the fact that you were such an endless font of inspiration.  

When you parted your legs to show him your already damp entrance, it brought to mind Courbet’s  _ L'Origine du monde-- _ a frank and perhaps crass sight, but still exquisite and impossible to ignore.  He gave no thought to the sketchbook and charcoal pencil that fell to the floor as he rushed forward to lick at you, spared not even a second worrying about the marks he was leaving on your neck and chest with his kisses or that the window was open so that any random passerby could hear the two of you grunting and moaning each other’s names.  From his point of view, no greater collaborative work existed than when you and he were in these moments, and there was no sweeter music than your enraptured wails and the slick coming together of bodies.  

Blue was Yusuke’s favourite colour--and it still was.  But ever since you had come into his life, white, splattered all over your chest and face was fast becoming his new favoured choice.

**Author's Note:**

> You can see and read more about Courbet's _L'Origine du monde_ ("Origin of the World") [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Origine_du_monde), although please note that it is NSFW!
> 
> Discuss art movements and other things with me at my [Tumblr!](https://quillmind.tumblr.com/)


End file.
